


feast

by manabu



Category: Original Work
Genre: Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 00:06:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16650469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manabu/pseuds/manabu
Summary: i had a weird dream and i needed to write it down before it faded.





	feast

they don't know why they're here. these surroundings feel familiar but at the same time foreign, like something's shifted but they can't place it. a smell that used to bring comfort, now settling heavy in the bottom of their stomach, swirling as they finally recognize it for what it is.

there are so many people. it feels like chaos as it registers through their eyes, too much movement, so much noise, everything racing down their veins and leaving them dizzy, head spinning as they try to desperately find an exit or root themselves to the spot, anything that will cease the feeling equivalent of being dragged by the current of an ocean.

in the center of it all, there's her. the only solid presence in the room, yet they can't stare directly into her. the image sways and shifts, like when they try to stare directly into the sun; it hurts, their eyes feel heavy, and the after-image gets burned behind their eyelids.

her head drips like ink, the dark of her hair intensified by the wet that clings. her eyes are hidden, but they're also burned under their eyelids, intense and lethargic as always.

her back twists as her arms work, bones shifting like they're trying to escape, as the watcher madly begs in silent, please stay put. they can't see what's underneath her, thinks they wouldn't want to see, the viscera flashing by under the movement of stretching arms is telling enough.

her arms look too long, too unsettling, like spider arms dutifully ripping apart their prey. are her bones supposed to look that hollow, that sharp?

the current sways them along once more, and the picture becomes clearer. they feel lonely, the only one in the room who sees.

her hair clings to sickly skin, disorganized by the frantic movement of hunger.

her mouth reminds them of a viper, concealed jaw long and unnatural when shut, sending their stomach into a mad swirl when it widens and seeks out its victim's neck, hunter's teeth tearing through their pipe like soft muscle, pulling slowly and yanking far while her arms shove them back to the ground. her throat rumbles as she enjoys her meal with the calm of a hungry tiger circling their prey, finding satisfaction in giving their prey hope of escaping from the fiercest hunter before she crumbles it under her claws.

the scent lingering under her familiar skin clings under their nose. so sweet, like incense and honey. 

like something rotting.

**Author's Note:**

> two days ago i woke up from a long, detailed and elaborate dream about knowing a girl who (i think) organized these sort of parties only to eat the guests. don't ask me why, i wish i knew.  
> before i woke up, something happened that i didn't include in this: the pov (who wasn't me) and another friend laid with Her, in a tight cuddle pile on a small bed, and it felt like they were fully aware of what she was and what she did, and like they were enjoying being in her company before she tore through their innards.  
> but outside the door stood the one who truly intended to eat them up, a spitting image of her, but not.
> 
> one sick a/n: the smell the pov feels and relates to Her is how dead corpses smell irl when they're starting to rot. it clings to you and under your nose for way too long.


End file.
